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appealing, more attractive. Of course most of those women knew he was military and he assumed his position of authority might have impacted their judgment.
He didn’t think he was a bad looking guy. He kept in shape so his body was solid. But he wouldn’t bill himself as the next GQ model either. But he thought that perhaps women cared more about money and power than model good looks. Whatever the case, his looks had always garnered attention, some of it welcome, some of it not—but right now all attention fell into the unwelcome category. Unfortunately for him Miss Davies didn’t get the picture he had clearly painted for her. He wasn’t interested in her, not professionally and not personally.
With all of her doting attention she was only getting in his way.
She was not only nosy, wanting to know about his life, his marital status, his choice in ties and what he had had for breakfast, but she was obnoxiously forward. He wasn’t sure what made her think he would want to take her home for the night. He had never given her the impression of being interested. After what his wife had done to him, he’d never give another woman again the impression of wanting anything—not even friendship. They were all the same in his book—all young, single women just desperate to get married—he wasn’t interested in playing that game again. He had, in no uncertain terms, refused all of Miss Davies advances, but the twenty-two year old,
“Yale” graduate obviously hadn’t learned enough while doing that high priced college degree to understand the meaning of the word no.
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He wondered why she felt the need to name drop all the time.
He didn’t care what school she went to, or who her daddy was friends with. He didn’t care about her at all.
What he cared about was catching the thief in this company, the traitor that deserved to be tortured for his sedition and then shot, so that he could get on with his life. He had a lot of pieces to pick up. He a lot of plans to try to make. He never believed in sitting on his butt until the situation presented itself. He knew he would have to leave the military as soon as he reached his twenty years plus one day. It hadn’t been his original plan. He thought he would die with his boots on—and honestly there had been many times he had come close to doing just that—but now things were different. The situation at home mandated he leave his rank behind, but he couldn’t do it now, not when he was so close to the full benefits he knew he would need. If it weren’t for the goodness in his mother he would swear he hated women. They really knew how to screw a man out of his career—literally and metaphorically.
He was getting angrier just thinking about his situation, and anger was not what he needed right now. As Miss Davies had so adequately informed him, he was wanted in conference room A. Red flags went up for him. He was sure he hadn’t blown his cover, but any change in schedule put him on high alert.
“Sir,” he nodded to Nathaniel Shaw as he entered the conference room.
“Close the door Masterson.”
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He closed the door before taking a seat at the oversized oval table. He nearly laughed at the company’s design choices. Whoever had put this room together clearly thought they were back in the days of King Author and his knights. From the stone construction of the table with the elaborate granite inlay to the oversized medieval chairs, there was no mistaking it; the room had been designed to fit somebody’s delusional fantasies. He would bet the farm the design had been Shaw’s idea. The man thought himself a king in the company and everybody else either peasant or loyal henchman. Sully considered himself neither, but it was important to his mission that he make himself seen as a man belonging to the loyal henchman group.
He needed more access to classified areas. He needed more of their trust, and he had been working hard to get both. A few covered up fudged numbers here and there assured them he was fine with not playing by the rules. He had been working the crooked angle for far too long. He needed to get a firm grip on who the players in this game were. Now that they had more pieces to the puzzle, they planned to fit those pieces together—soon. Unfortunately he knew the government.
There were men who would fit the puzzle together whatever way they could jimmy a piece in, no matter what convoluted picture it conjured up. Then there were men, like Langston Riverdale, who ran a tight ship, who wanted the truth. He had always said, “The truth now saves you a major screw up later.” He was right; too bad he couldn’t convince his bosses of that.
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“What did you want to see me about, sir?”
“Call me Nate.” Sully wasn’t sure if permission to address his highness by first name was a good or bad thing. Even his number one in charge man called him Mr. Shaw. He wasn’t proof positive, but he had an idea he had finally broken through Shaw’s suit of armor. Why else would he be sitting in a conference room that few employees had ever seen, let alone had a meeting in? Why else would this man, a man who thought himself above all, want to lower himself to level playing field by insisting he be called by his first name? He was breaking through—or more like he had broken through—at least a little and that’s just what he had needed to do.
“You’ve been with us a short time. And I wouldn’t trust you now if you hadn’t come highly recommended, if you hadn’t spent this past year proving yourself.”
Sully nodded. He knew the recommendations in current topic.
They had offered the slime bastard immunity for his role in embezzlement if he assisted with getting Sully through the door.
Making a deal with a demon to catch the devil? Smart move? Probably not, but they didn’t have much choice. Palo Santori was too high in the family to be refused. His mafia connection, his expertly hidden in plain sight illegal activity had brought him to Shaw’s attention years ago. It wasn’t a secret within different government agencies just where Shaw had obtained the money to start his business from the ground up. So why had the government gotten into bed with him on military contracts Capri Montgomery
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that could jeopardize national security? He could venture a guess that it had a lot to do with Shaw’s money helping put a lot of politicians in power.
Common sense should have told the idiots it was a bad idea, but it hadn’t. That was the problem with their current leaders; they didn’t know how to use the brain their skull was holding in place.
“Well, I have a project for you, and it needs the absolute, I mean absolute, no room for error, discretion. Can you do it for me?” He knew Shaw wanted an answer, not questions. If he questioned him he risked knocking himself out of the game. “Yes,” he opted for a display of unquestioned loyalty.
“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear. We’ll meet again soon, and I’ll tell you what I need.” He stood up, looked down at Sully and in no uncertain terms said, “but if you screw me on this it’ll be the last thing you do.”
Sully didn’t miss the threat. Shaw wasn’t talking about putting him out of the company; he was talking about putting him six feet under. Sully resisted the grin that threatened to break his closed lips. If the man thought he scared him he had a serious lesson to learn. He was a S.E.A.L.; it took a lot more than a pompous jerk’s threat to scare him.
All of his hard work was finally ready to give a bigger payout.
He was one step closer to end game now; one step closer to freedom.
He just needed to take the bastards on his end down. Gavin’s responsibility would be the middle man, whoever was involved from The McGregor Affair
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the travel show, and then, if things went according to plan, they would get the buyer. Of course he wouldn’t get cocky. He had been on enough missions to know things didn’t always go according to plan. He needed to stay vigilant until this mission ended—no sleeping, no letting his guard down,
no false sense of security because those things would ensure failure. And he would not fail.
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Chapter Four
“Here, let me see that,” London took Gavin’s hand and adjusted his arm so she could see his injury.
“It’s just a scratch,” he mumbled. He was upset with himself for looking like a klutz. Falling was not on his list of things to do while going through the lava tube. He was sure he looked like a world class idiot to the limited crew who had gone down with them, but more than that, he was sure he looked like an idiot to her. On one level maybe the misstep could work to his advantage. Maybe the klutzy move would make him look less like a threat. On the other hand, he didn’t want to look like an idiot to anybody—especially her.
“Scratches,” she pulled his arm back within her reach, “can turn deadly. So stop being such a guy and let me look at it.” The McGregor Affair
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He smiled. Her words, her tone; she was a nurturer whether she would readily admit it or not. He could imagine her being a mother someday—the mother of his children. He tried to reign in those thoughts. Now was not the time, and this might not be the woman. She could be committing treason for all he knew.
He watched as she pulled a small first aid kit from one of her pockets. “I’ll put some Neosporin on it, but it will probably still leave a scar, at least a little one,” she said as she wiped away the dirt and blood with an alcohol pad. She blew gently on the wound, as if trying to lessen the sting of the pad. He hadn’t felt any sting at all. All he could feel was her warm breath on his skin—feathering against it in a way that made him want to toss her on her back and take her.
She applied the bandage before looking into his eyes and smiling. “See, all better now.”
“You do this often,” he laughed, though he could hear the strain in his own voice.
“Somebody always falls down on these things. Gosh, when we were in Alaska I nearly killed myself…this first aid kit came in handy then for sure.” She laughed as if nearly killing herself was an everyday occurrence.
“What happened?” He hadn’t heard about any accidents involving London, which he found odd because he had heard about the mundane things like what the crew took in their coffee. Nobody mentioned London almost getting killed. He found that more need to Capri Montgomery
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know than the fact that the director took cream in his coffee while the makeup artist drank espresso only.
“Don’t get all alpha male on me.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at him the best she could. He realized his tone was harsh, angry even, but the thought of London almost dying had his blood boiling. He may not have been with the show long, but between his pre-mission research and his short time with London, he felt a connection.
Something about her drew him to her. Something in her eyes, in her voice, in her friendly disposition made him want to protect her. And what if she doesn’t need your protection? What if she’s a criminal? Get your head on straight, McGregor.
“I,” she waved her hand dismissingly. “Should have been paying attention to where I was going—much like you,” she winked.
“I, not so gracefully, stepped off the edge of a cliff.” She laughed hard.
“Thank God there was a small rock extension to break my fall or I’d be six feet under right now.”
“And you think that’s funny?”
“At the time—no—but now I can see the humor. Adventure woman, world traveled, great explorer, woman who stepped off cliff and fell to death while filming a television show, isn’t exactly the best tombstone heading. Anyway, I jacked up my leg pretty bad on the rocks. Nothing broken, but a lot of sharp cuts. These guys know nothing about first aid.” She mumbled the last part as if trying to keep them from hearing her. “I had to do it myself. Same goes for when they The McGregor Affair
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get hurt doing something—although their something is usually a stupid mistake that could be avoided by something other than watching where they’re going.”
“What do you mean?”
“Guys, stop gabbing. If he’s ready to move out the way we’re ready to shoot you London.” Jack snapped as if the friendly chatter between the two of them annoyed him.
She shrugged. “Duty calls.”
He started to move, but curiosity got the better of him. “What distracted you?” He looked over her delicate features, wanting so much to run his hands through her hair. “Back in Alaska,” he clarified. “What distracted you?”
“Oh, um…well I thought I saw somebody in the woods. I was so busy backing up to get a better look that I didn’t realize I was so close to the edge until…” she shrugged again.
“Was there somebody there?”
“I don’t know. After I fell we were all pretty much preoccupied with making sure I was okay. I pulled myself back up and—”
“You pulled yourself back up. Why didn’t they come get you?”
“Wow, you really are a standup guy aren’t you?” She looked at him in a way that told him she was just realizing he was a man who would protect his own. “Well, I climb, so free climbing wasn’t an issue.
I mean it wasn’t that far down. Maybe ten feet or so.” Capri Montgomery
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“Ten feet!” He was ready to take some heads at that admission.
“Did they take you to the hospital?”
“What for?”
Was she serious? What for? “Woman—” She held up her hand to stop him from talking. He didn’t like the interruption, especially when he was ready to give her a lecture on safety—her safety. There was something about her that made him want to protect her. He wanted her safe. He wasn’t sure why. For all he knew, she could be guilty as sin, and here he was trying to make sure she didn’t get hurt.
“Gavin, I went on digs in Egypt with my parents. I’ve fallen down chambers before. It’s not a big deal…of course I always had a rope around me to catch me so I never hit bottom, but you know…ten feet isn’t that bad. I managed to slow the fall by grabbing at the cliff as I went so that helped. I pulled myself back up. The free climb is the difficult part because you risk falling again, but I made it, I bandaged myself up and we carried on. Of course we cut it out of the final show.
I don’t think that’s the kind of adventure Warren had in mind,” she chuckled. “I should warn you,” she turned serious. “You really do have to take care of yourself on this set. This isn’t a big happy family—not that we all hate each other or anything—just that nobody is going to watch out for you, or help you if you need it. You’ll have to take care of yourself.”
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He was near boiling point. Somebody should have helped her, taken care of her, or at the very least taken her to the hospital. “You took care of me,” he reminded her.
“Well, I’m not exactly like them. They’re Hollywood. I’m not.
You won’t get a diva with me. You won’t get somebody who cares more about ratings than human life. When I fell, Nick, our fearless lead cameraman, kept recording. He never put the camera down once.
That’s not my style. I would have dropped the camera and been the first person down to check on the injured party. It doesn’t really matter I guess because you know something…”
“What?”
“I’m used to taking care of myself. You won’t get a damsel in distress personality type with me. So don’t think you have to come in here and save me from anything.”
He couldn’t help it. That was his personality, to protect, to take on danger head on, to keep everybody else safe. But she didn’t know that. She couldn’t know that because nobody knew about his background—nor would they ever know.
“It’s okay to need help, London.”
She smiled at him as if she knew a secret that he did
n’t, or as if she had just won a victory. “You should remember those words and take your own advice.” She winked once more. “Next time you’re too busy checking out my behind to watch where your feet are going don’t’
complain when I try to clean up your scrapes.” On those words she Capri Montgomery
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turned on her heals and walked far enough away from him to signal the guys she was ready to start shooting.
So she had known where his eyes had been. He nearly laughed.
Here he was thinking he had been less than obvious in his admiration of her perfectly toned behind, and she had known. He tried not to look; honestly he tried, but with the way those cargo pants hugged her feminine curves he just couldn’t help but look. He had never seen a woman in cargo pants where the pants fit her curves in all the right places and in just the right way.
He shrugged. This was a Hollywood production, even if they did shoot on location. He had no doubt in his mind that London had been picked to lead the show, not only because of her skill, but because of her looks. She wasn’t just a woman who didn’t mind getting down and dirty. She was eye candy. He was sure that had been the motive behind the hiring. Applebee had lucked out when he found this one. It wasn’t often he saw the entire package come together—and what a package it was—smart, adventurous, maybe even a little dangerous, and sexy as hell.
London sprawled out on the bed after her long, hot shower. She still needed to finish applying her body oil, but she was exhausted and just lying there seemed like a better idea. They had walked to the location, through rocks, shrubs, trees, bugs, snakes and everything else.
Then they had gone down into the tubes, using the ropes they lowered The McGregor Affair
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themselves and equipment down. Then they had to walk further inside to get to the treasure, a wall that had once been studded with diamonds.
There were still a couple—which they had been told better still be there when they finished—she laughed at the thought. They had just been in Arkansas where they had a digging for diamonds episode. They could find all the gems and diamonds they wanted there—for next to nothing.
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